Transmigrated as the Villain Between the Heroine and the Villainess

The real battle was about to begin. Tomorrow, the academy gates would open, and he would step back into the lion's den.

Not as a new student, but as a returning one. A second-year.

'If only I had arrived at the start of the first year,' he thought, staring out his window. 'I could have sorted everything out. I could have laid low, built my strength, avoided the main characters.'

But he hadn't. He had been thrown into the story mid-act, forced to inherit the consequences of a life he never lived.

'That bastard, Azrael.'

The original owner of this body had already done all the damage. The rivalry between the hero and Azrael had ignited on the very first day.

A firestorm of jealousy and arrogance, all for a single girl.

'And why did he have to fall for her of all people?'

Wasn't he stupid? Loving a girl who was always, inevitably, by the hero's side. A girl who looked at him with nothing but disdain.

It was a pathetic, one-sided obsession.

And the hero wasn't a nobody. He was Kaelen Valerius, the first prince of the neighboring Valerium Kingdom.

Technically, he was of half-blood, a fact that caused him some political struggles, but that was just standard protagonist backstory.

'Struggles are practically a requirement for a hero,' Azrael scoffed inwardly. 'But he's still a thousand times luckier than me.'

Then there was the object of their conflict, Seraphina Vane. She hailed from one of the strongest families, a powerhouse on par with the Ashveils.

She was beautiful, talented, and proud.

And her skill… a chill traced its way down his spine just thinking about it.

Crystal Bloom. A rare, terrifyingly versatile affinity that allowed her to grow crystalline constructs out of thin air.

She could create impenetrable shields, razor-sharp spears, and intricate traps. A fortress and an arsenal all in one.

Then he thought of the other heroine, Elvara. In the original story, her own immense power had unlocked a few days after the marriage.

It was triggered by the constant bullying and torture inflicted by the original Azrael. She had hidden it, unable to control it at first.

'For Elvara, that was the novel's timeline. I don't know if it will be the same now that I'm here.'

But if it was, her ability was another gift from the heavens.

Stellar Wrath. The ability to channel the raw energy of the stars, calling down beams of cosmic destruction. A power meant to judge and purify.

'Two heroines with god-tier abilities, and a hero blessed by fate itself.' He felt a bitter taste in his mouth.

'And me? I'm the villain who's supposed to face them.'

Tomorrow would be difficult. What if he ran into them? The novel didn't detail every single day of the academy. It only highlighted major events.

He was walking into a minefield, completely blind.

'I need to get stronger.'

The thought was a constant, nagging drumbeat in his head. He turned from the window. It was time for his final training session with Sebastian.

The moon cast long shadows across the training field. The air was cool and still. It was just the two of them.

"You are distracted, my lord," Sebastian said, his voice calm. He held a wooden sword, his posture relaxed but ready.

"I'm focused," Azrael lied, gripping his own sword.

"Your mind is elsewhere," the butler corrected him gently. "In a real battle, that would be a fatal flaw. Let us begin."

Azrael took a breath and lunged. His movements were a world away from the clumsy charges of his first day. He was faster, his footwork more precise.

Clang!

Their wooden swords met. Sebastian didn't overpower him. He simply redirected the force of Azrael's blow, causing him to stumble.

"Your form is better," Sebastian commented. "But you still rely too much on strength. The Flowing Steel is about efficiency, not effort."

Azrael didn't reply. He attacked again, a series of slashes and thrusts. He was a blur of motion, his body pushed to its limit.

For two weeks, he had lived and breathed this style. He understood its every principle, thanks to his skill.

But understanding and execution were two different worlds.

Sebastian was a wall. An immovable, unbreachable defense. He parried every attack with minimal movement.

He didn't even need to counterattack. Azrael's own failed attacks were enough to throw him off balance.

Thwack.

The flat of Sebastian's blade struck his ribs, the impact stealing his breath.

"You anticipated my parry," the butler noted. "But you failed to account for the speed of my recovery. Your body is still too slow."

'He's right,' Azrael thought, gritting his teeth. 'I can see the openings. But my stats… my physical body… it's a cage.'

He pushed on, sweat stinging his eyes. The rhythmic clang of wood against wood echoed in the night.

He was fighting with a desperation that bordered on madness. He tried to be unpredictable, to break the flow.

It was useless. Sebastian was always ten steps ahead. He was guiding the entire fight, leading Azrael into traps of his own making.

After what felt like an eternity, Azrael saw an opening. A feint, a quick spin, and a thrust to the butler's exposed side.

For a split second, he thought it would work.

Then, Sebastian's foot swept out from under him. His world tilted, and he crashed hard onto his back.

The tip of Sebastian's sword came to rest gently on his throat. The spar was over.

He lay there, gasping for air, staring up at the indifferent stars. He had given it everything. He hadn't even come close to landing a single hit.

Sebastian offered a hand and pulled him to his feet. "You have improved more in two weeks than most squires do in two years, my lord. You should be proud."

Azrael just shook his head, the praise feeling hollow.

Back in his room, he collapsed onto his bed, his body a canvas of new aches and bruises.

'System,' he thought wearily.

The blue screen appeared. He looked at his stats, hoping for some sign that the brutal training had paid off.

[◈ STATUS MANIFEST ◈]

[Name: Azrael Ashveil]

[Title: The Unwanted Heir]

[Level: 1]

[Rank: Beginner]

[Condition: Bruised, Exhausted]

[◈ CORE ATTRIBUTES ◈]

[STR (Strength): 10 / 100 (+1)]

[AGI (Agility): 10 / 100 (+1)]

[END (Endurance): 8 / 100]

[INT (Intelligence): 10 / 100]

[AET (Aether): 9 / 100]

[LCK (Luck): 5 / 100]

[CHA (Charisma): 8 / 100]

[◈ AFFINITY ◈]

[Primary Slot: Empty]

[(Only one Primary Affinity can be held)]

[◈ UNIQUE SKILL ◈ Limitless Comprehension]

[(Type: Passive / Growth)]

[Effect: Instantly grasps the fundamental principles of any observed ability, object, or concept. Learning speed is amplified by 300%.]

[Special: Acquired knowledge and skills evolve uniquely under the host's direct will and interpretation.]

He stared at the numbers. Two weeks of hell. And for what?

One point in Strength. One point in Agility.

A bitter, hysterical laugh escaped his lips.

'This is a joke.'

He slammed his fist into the mattress, a wave of pure, undiluted rage washing over him.

'With these stats, I can't even stand against an average student, let alone the goddamn hero!'

He felt trapped. Utterly and completely trapped.

'This stupid system, with its pathetic rewards and impossible leveling curve… It's useless! It's all useless!'

Tomorrow, he would walk into the academy with the strength of a slightly above-average child and the reputation of a monster.

He was a lamb being sent to a slaughterhouse full of wolves. And he had no fangs, no claws, and no way out.